


He'd Promised

by wolfstarheart



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftermath of the prank, Angst, Angst and Feels, First Kiss, Insomnia, M/M, The Prank, remus is sad, sirius doesn't deal with things healthily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 03:42:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5114603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfstarheart/pseuds/wolfstarheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What do you do when you want to forgive someone so bad it hurts, but they've hurt you so bad you don't think you should forgive them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	He'd Promised

**Author's Note:**

> happy halloween! i purposely decided to publish this on the day james and lily died and sirius was accused of a crime he didn't commit and remus lost it all, you know, for symbolic reasons. anyway enjoy and remember to check the tags for triggers!

He is terrified. 

The wolf feels like it lives within him permanently, a shadow threatening to blanket everything in darkness. And right now it is growling, angry, and though Remus' first instinct is to disagree with anything it says, he is furious too. 

But when he opens his mouth, and looks up at James looking down at him with that mixture of sympathy and anger that only he can manage to pull off, nothing comes out but a whisper. 

He wants to ask why. 

But he can't bear to see James pity him. To turn his back on his brother for him. 

"Is Snape--?" his voice is scratchy, even more than usual. He'd been filled in on what happened when he woke up. Only briefly, before Pomfrey escorted Dumbledore away, complaining her patients needed their sleep. But he'd not been able to get a minute more of slumber, and as dawn gradually broke, filling the room with sunlight, it only became harder to pretend that this wasn't happening. 

"Snape's alright," says James, and Remus thinks this is the first time ever that he has managed to say the Slytherin's name without any trace of malice or contempt. Even James looks too tired to insult him, which he thinks Sirius would definitely be amused to know--

_Oh._

"Good," he replies, and his shaking hands are pushed further into the duvet. "I'm glad you-- I didn't--"

"Stop avoiding it," his friend says, and James is sitting next to him gingerly, making sure he's not hurting him before continuing, "you need to talk about him. To him. He was your--"

"Friend," Remus mutters coolly, picking at the sheets with his other hand. 

James pauses, nods, and tells him about the recent Cannons win until he's chased out of the infirmary. 

 

He is empty. 

He's been discharged from the hospital wing since, a little later than usual-- Madam Pomfrey had insisted, as usual, that he stayed until he was fully healed, and this time Remus didn't have the energy to protest. So it's about a week later that he makes his way back to Gryffindor Tower, still a little unsteady, and hoping he doesn't look too terrified. 

People stare when he passes. For a wild, panicky second, he thinks they  _know_ \-- Snape must've told them, or maybe (his stomach clenches) Sirius did, but as he passes a group of giggling third years he realizes they're just commenting on the scar on his face that still hasn't faded. He wouldn't have noticed. He couldn't even look in a mirror without seeing the wolf's shining eyes staring back at him. 

The journey is shorter than he remembered it to be, and he's cursing the founders when he arrives to a sudden stop in front of the portrait. The Fat Lady swings open without asking for the password-- which he is grateful for, because he doesn't think he could force a single word out of his shuddering lungs-- and he climbs in as his muscles, still not fully accustomed to being human, twinge sharply. 

He's scanning the Common Room for  _him_ before he can even realize it-- and to his relief he comes up short. The others in the room start whispering when he appears, but he blocks it out. He doesn't even realize he's there until he's standing outside the door to their dorm. 

It's dark. He glances at the clock on the wall (ignores the sock wrapped around the pendulum, tries not to think about the fact that a sock that small could only be one person's) and realizes that it's late. Not late enough for the others to be asleep, which means that they must still be finishing off dinner. So he walks over to his bed, draws the hangings, and kneels on the mattress-- which isn't cold like he'd expected it to be, and smells oddly of cardamom. 

If he was religious, like his mother, he might've prayed. When he'd been bitten, she'd clasp her hands together, close her eyes, and he just didn't understand it. If there was a God, why would he make Remus a werewolf? 

So instead, he leans his forehead against the headboard, breathing quietly, and tries to not think at all. 

When his mind is quiet, it seems like the universe is conspiring to make as much noise as possible. And he can hear it. The soft, ragged breathing coming from the dorm that Remus knows all too well. 

He doesn't care. He doesntcaredoesntcaredoesntcare--

"Remus?"

He holds his breath. 

"I know you're in there--" a brief pause, and he can hear light footsteps pad across the floor, "and I know you don't want to talk to me."

 _So why bother?_ Remus wants to ask, but he couldn't even if he wanted to. 

"I'm sorry," Sirius continues, and his voice is empty, like he'd expected it to be. Remus winces nevertheless. 

"I'm so fucking sorry, Moony--"

"Don't call me that," he hisses, and his voice cracks at the end but it shuts Sirius up. The nickname, despite being a reminder of the monster he loathes, never hurt him. Until now. 

"I'm sorry," and then he's repeating it over and over again, a mantra of apology, and Remus barely hears any of it because it's drowned out by the pounding of his heart--

He yanks the hangings open. "I want to sleep," he says, and Sirius' eyes have never looked darker, and his instinct is to reach out and give him some cocoa for the paleness that looks unnatural and unhealthy on the shorter boy, but instead he closes the curtains once more and flops down onto his bed. 

Sirius' footsteps are heavier this time, and he hears the spring of a bed groan before exhaustion takes over all of his senses. 

 

He is worried. 

He shouldn't be, according to James, who's been nothing but strong these past few days. He'd ignored Sirius, except for that one time he gave him a black eye, and Remus was sure he was going to get detention for that, but Sirius just slunk back into the dorms, clutching his face.

He shouldn't be, according to Peter, who was remarkably cool about it all. "He betrayed you," the shorter boy had said fiercely when Remus had brought up Sirius for the first time since the Incident, "he betrayed you and you can't forgive him."

The truth is, Remus already had. 

But he glares at Sirius with a bitter emptiness that comes there of its own free will, and pretends he doesn't want to rip up the Map for bearing  _his_ name beside Remus', and wonders when this is all going to work itself out. 

"I'm sorry," Sirius is saying, standing a few feet away from Remus at the bottom of the staircase to the Astronomy tower. 

Remus smiles at him, and his cheeks twinge uncomfortably. "I know."

"Will you ever forgive me?" Sirius is looking at his feet, hands shoved into the pockets of his robes. Remus knows he'll be drawing circles into the fabric. Knows, because when they were still friends-- still whatever they were-- it would be his hand that Sirius traced patterns on when he got nervous. 

Remus keeps smiling, "I don't know," and he's running away before he knows it. 

Later that day, he will notice Sirius isn't at lunch, or at dinner. 

That week Sirius won't come to any of the classes they share-- which is most of them, and Remus' mind is flooded with the memory of them curled up by the fire in the common room, picking out their NEWT classes together so they won't have to be apart for long. 

And the next week Sirius doesn't sleep in their dorm anymore, and Remus' bed is cold when he comes back to it after dinner, and he's almost forgotten there was a fourth Marauder in the first place. 

Except how could he, when everything seems to smell of fucking motorcycle oil nicked from a Muggle store over the summer and cardamom seeds and expensive cologne? When he can't even look at someone with dark hair without imagining sharp grey eyes to go with it? When he can't even look up at the night sky without picking out the brightest star up there?

Sirius isn't bright anymore, though. He passes him in the hallways, once or twice, and he is-- fading, for lack of a better word. Not ghost-like, but close, with paler skin and trembling fingers that Remus wants to hold--

"Look away," James murmurs, and Remus wonders how he has the strength to turn away from his  _brother._ But James has always been stronger than him, transformations and all, and so he allows himself to be led into Potions, where he pretends having a new parter is fine with him, and decides he most definitely does not want to stick his head into the flames his cauldron currently rests over so he doesn't have to bloody think about it all. 

And all the while, he is counting down the days to the next full moon, because there will be three, not four, that night, and even though Remus is fine with that, the wolf won't be. 

 

He is hurting. 

His muscles ache, his skin prickles, and he wants to cry. He hasn't cried in a month, because there seems nothing left in him to force into racking sobs, but he wants it. He wants to let it all out and feel okay, except he should know, by now, that he can't bleed anything out but blood. 

James is still Prongs, and Remus watches the stag canter around the shack gleefully. He knows he enjoys it, loves being that flighty proud animal, despite how serious he is about doing it to help the wolf. He wishes he could be an Animagus too, not for the first time. It must be nice, to have control over something. 

When he was younger, he used to be afraid of rats. There was this one time, when he was a toddler, and this rodent gnawed through his favorite toy until stuffing leaked out onto the floor. It wasn't like that with Wormtail, though, and he runs his fingers through the soft downy fur on the rat's back without even thinking about it, the warmth soothing, comforting even. 

"Was it worse? Without-- without him?" a voice says, and James is back, hair messier than usual, which is saying something. His tone is cautious, but he's not stuttering around any mention of Sirius like he used to. Remus thinks James wants to forgive him too. 

He nods tightly. "Not  _because_ of him. I don't need him. It's just mathematics. Three is better than two." 

James nods and Wormtail squeaks and they pretend it's okay. 

The sun is only just rising over the horizon when Remus shifts slightly-- "Ow, bloody fuck!"--and motions for them to leave. "Pomfrey will be here soon," he grunts, and James disappears with Peter like they'd never been there in the first place. 

And then the shadows come alive. 

He's sure he's imagining it-- he's probably delirious from the pain, yeah, that's what it must be-- but there's something moving here, something beneath the haystacks in the opposite corner--

He's drawing his limbs closer, lacking the energy to stand, breath coming out in short gasps as he scrambles for his wand--

A black dog shakes the hay out of its fur and creeps towards him and Remus has to rub his eyes to make sure he's not dreaming. 

The canine's ribs show and its fur is knotted and thin and Remus remembers reading, somewhere, that one's Animagus form's health reflects its owner's. He is almost terrified to see what Sirius is like as a human, because when Padfoot gets closer his eyes are desolate and red and look like they haven't gotten a wink of sleep for days. 

He'd always had a rough sleeping schedule, but Remus used to curl up in bed with him until their breaths matched and Sirius would doze off. Sometimes he wouldn't leave, and they'd fall asleep together, limbs interwoven, but not uncomfortably so. Now, Sirius must sleep alone, if he's sleeping at all. All he wants to do is hug him, and the impulse that is slowly taking control of him is forced down resolutely. 

"Why are you here?" Remus breathes, and Padfoot seems to shrink into himself. With a low whine, his legs give way, and he's just a mess of dull fur and splayed limbs as he looks up blearily at the lighter-haired boy. 

"Were you-- were you there? To play with the wolf?" 

The dog barks, and it's not energetic like it used to be, but still assertive, and he takes that as a 'yes'. 

"Didn't James or Peter notice--" And then it strikes him that they must've, that they knew he needed this just as much as Sirius did--

He just feels powerless. 

Remus lets himself fade back into light, fitful sleep, and when his hands find themselves buried in fur he doesn't pay much attention to it. 

 

He is tired. 

They all are. 

James doesn't laugh nearly as much when he plays Exploding Snap with him and Peter's eating contests aren't nearly as hilarious and Remus just feels incomplete. Which is ridiculous, because, as he reminds himself, he  _doesn't fucking need Sirius_. 

"I need you," Sirius is saying, and it's nighttime and they're alone and James and Peter are Merlin knows where, and Remus snaps. 

"I fucking needed you too," he hisses, and his eyes are flashing as he pulls his duvet up and tears the hangings open roughly. "I needed you to keep me safe, to keep my secret, and you betrayed me, to  _Snape_ of all people--"

"I don't know why," and Sirius is shaking, and Remus remembers the last time he's seen him like this, when he got disowned and James Flooed him telling him he needed to come, fast, "I don't know how, or why, and I can't justify it all, Remus, I hate myself-- he was there, laughing, about  _you_ , and I was speaking and it came out and I wanted to take it back the moment I said it, and there was-- I wanted to  _hurt him,_ Remus, I wanted to tear him apart and I can't believe I'd--" he's choking on his words, and his head is bowed like he's crying but all he's doing is breathing sharply. 

He won't cry, Remus knows. He was built like that, trained to hold it in until it all burst out in a rush of anger. The sadistic part of him wants to push him until he's sobbing, pleading him to forgive him--

He swallows. "I don't--"

Sirius cuts him off. "Don't forgive me," he says, and there's a calmness to his voice that makes Remus stare him right in the eye. He doesn't falter when he continues, "I don't deserve it. You can't afford your secret being revealed again. I'm a liability. A loose cannon. You don't deserve that. It's not right."

"You think--" Remus grips the mattress tightly and his knuckles threatened to tear his skin-- "you think you'd do it again?"

Sirius shakes his head. "I don't want to," he replies. "I would never. But. I've done it once, who's to say I won't--" and then he's digging his nails into his arms and rocking back and forth and Remus knows this is the closest he'll get to crying and he just wants it all to stop. 

So it does. 

He grabs Sirius' hands, stops him from tearing at his skin, feels the blood in his palms. He holds them anyway, clasps their fingers together until their pulses are matching. 

"Stop," he says, and he's more certain than he thought he would be. "I trust you, Sirius. You're not going to do this again. You're not your father."

"But what if I am?" Sirius' veins are stark in the half moon light that trickles into the room silently, wrists bruised and torn. "But what if I fuck up again?"

"You won't," Remus assures him. 

"I won't?"

"You're my friend. Of course you won't. I promise."

They are both still, for a moment, for years, for a time when they're both staring at each other, and Remus' jaw is slack, and then--

And then they're kissing, and Remus should've expected this except there was no way to anticipate how this would feel, how Sirius' chapped, bitten lips would feel against his own, how tears that were not his own would wet his cheeks, and he'd realize he finally made Sirius Black cry. 

They pull apart, and Remus wants to describe the kiss in beautiful platitudes because that is the Poetic Way, and yet he can't. 

"Was that-- was that okay?" Sirius' eyes are widened, and he's backing away, the trembling of his shoulders more noticeable now-- but then again, everything about Sirius is standing out more, and he wonders how he could've lived without those high cheekbones and long, currently lank hair, and eyes that are currently contorted in terror but that he's seen in a thousand and more emotions. All he wants to see is them light up in happiness. 

"That was more than okay," Remus says, exhaling, and he thinks they'll be more than okay too. 

They have to be. He'd promised, after all. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> well anyway i hope that wasn't too bad! leaving a comment would be cool i guess but ! yeah ! you can also find me on tumblr (heymarauders.tumblr.com) nice :^)


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